


on up the meadow, water somewhere

by wafflesonface



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesonface/pseuds/wafflesonface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Peggy and Angie are far from home at Camp Ponderosa Pine. Angie hopes to teach girls a thing or two about acting and Peggy, well, Peggy doesn't want to admit it but she'd be excited to <i>actually</i> save some lives. It looks more like she'll be standing on a dock all day long.</p><p>It's going to be a long summer.</p><p>Modern Summer Camp Counselor AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	on up the meadow, water somewhere

_Camp Ponderosa Pine_.

 

The sign, and the short, spiky-haired woman holding it, just about bring Angie to tears. She knew it was far, but she had never imagined a plane trip from New York to California could take eighteen hours. Now, finally, her feet are on the ground. She has made it.

 

“Camp Ponderosa! That’s me! I’m Angie! I’m here!” She sprints over as fast as her overloaded backpack will allow.

 

“Hey there, Angie. I’m Jess,” the other woman sicks out her hand and offers a genial smile. She’s the assistant camp director, the one who fielded every phone call about every new delay. Angie has an impulse to wrap Jess in a bear hug and weep with relief, but she doesn’t want to be known as “the girl who cries” for the rest of the summer, so she takes the hand and gives it a solid shake.

 

“Nice to meet you, Jess. Thanks for picking me up!”

 

“Yeah, no problem. It’s all part of the job. I’m just glad you’re here and in one piece. What’s your baggage claim number?” Jess starts walking. “Let’s grab your stuff so we can get started on the drive.”

 

“Drive?” Angie asks, her stomach sinking. “How long is the drive?”

 

“Four hours,” Jess answers with a sympathetic frown. “Sorry.”

 

Four hours. Four. More. Hours.

 

She fights back the frustrated tears that start to prick at her eyes, but Angie might just end up “the girl who cries” after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her alarm starts beeping at five-thirty in the morning. Peggy hears a muffled groan from the bunk next to hers--a bunk that had been empty when she had gone to sleep--and sees a shine of golden-brown hair burrow further into it’s sleeping bag. That must be counselor who was supposed to have come in yesterday afternoon, poor thing. Peggy taps her alarm off quickly.

 

“Sorry, dear,” she leans over to whisper her apologies. “I’ll try to be quiet about it.”

 

By the time Peggy is suited up for her run and easing the door shut behind her, it sounds like the sleeping bag is breathing deep and slow again. Crisp morning air in her lungs, she sets off down the gravel road at a good pace. The altitude isn’t going to get to her today, she’s certain.

 

Peggy meets the person attached to those shining curls at breakfast. She’s a bit bleary-eyed, but after a smile, and a wave that fluidly meets Peggy’s offered handshake, and a name--”Angie,”--she doesn’t hesitate to bring Peggy to task for the early wake-up call.

 

“English, huh?”

 

“Yes, that’s right.”

 

“So you’re the one who gets up at the crack of dawn and drags all us poor, tired souls with you. I heard your apology and I accept it, but I haven’t forgiven you.”

 

“How can you be so sure it was me?” Peggy counters, surprisingly defensive. She’s not forgiven? “There’s two other English girls here. It could have been either of them.”

 

“Well, English, I did sneak a peek before you left. Can’t pin this one on them. You’ll have to atone all on your own.” Angie replies with a smirk, her big blue eyes staring her down with a challenge. God, those eyes are captivating. Thinking of those eyes on her this morning, wondering how long Angie was watching her--did she just peek out, was she changing at the time?--Peggy feels lightheaded, like she did yesterday on her first morning run at 7,000 feet. It’s the altitude; it got her after all, just a little later this time.

 

Snapping herself out of the swoon, Peggy laughs back and plays along, answering dryly, “Oh, how ever can I make it up to you?”

 

The comment is met with raised eyebrows and a small shrug, “S’up to you to figure that out.”

 

Peggy knows it’s only a joke, but as they set their plates down next to each other and Peggy starts introducing Angie to the other counselors at the table, she’s also starting to calculate an acceptable reparation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The morning of training is a blur of new names, new songs, and some possible camper scenarios that just about scare Angie back to Brooklyn.

 

A few names stick: Peggy, of course, the gorgeous English head lifeguard whose alarm woke Angie four short hours after she finally crashed into a bed. Peggy was waking up for a run. Honestly, they already have to trek around the lake at the center of camp to get just about anywhere; what kind of person chooses to get up early and run too? Peggy introduces Charlie, another lifeguard, who has come to this camp every summer since she was ten, who introduces Katherine who has done the same, and the four of them sit together all morning.

 

Lunch comes--grilled cheese and tomato soup. The food is fine, and Angie has already spent her first year at school learning to cope without her Ma’s home cooking, but she thinks it could use a little more flavor. She charms the head chef to loan her some spices with a simple, sincere (well, mostly sincere) compliment on the pancake breakfast and a promise to keep it their little secret.

 

Next on the schedule, after a good long break to let lunch settle in, is the counselor swim test. Suited up and strolling to the rocky shore, Angie feels pretty confident. As a kid she’d taken lessons at the local Y and spent a few weeks each summer splashing around in the lake near her uncle’s farm. She’s a passable swimmer. Then she sees Peggy, sleek blue suit, red rescue tube tucked under one arm, and suddenly she’s not so sure. It’s distracting, the way it hugs all her curves, curves Angie could only guess at before, and the way Peggy’s toned thigh muscles tense as she makes her way to the front of the cluster of chattering counselors. Distracting, and possibly dangerous. A girl might drown confronted with legs like those!

 

“Alright ladies, time to listen up,” Peggy calls for attention and the voices settle down. Angie feels flush and glances around, worried that in the quiet the other staff can hear her thoughts. But all their eyes are on Peggy, who is giving detailed instructions for the test. Safe, Angie turns her eyes back to Peggy too.

 

She’s maybe ready to forgive those morning runs, if they’re the price for this view.

 

She’s definitely ready to get in the water and _cool down_.

 

Once Angie’s toes dip into the clear water at the edge of the shore, she realizes it’s more than cool; it’s downright freezing. Her confidence takes another hit. On the one hand, Angie’s starting to wonder what Peggy’s strong arms would feel like wrapped around her, but on the other hand, she’s pretty sure being dragged out of the lake like wet rag would be an altogether bad first impression. Her arms and legs have never failed her in mid-winter blizzards, and she prays they can keep it together here in the freezing water too.

 

“Snowmelt,” Katherine explains beside her, plowing into the icy water, looking altogether too comfortable, the perks of ten years of practice. Up to her chest already, she splashes Angie, who squeaks when the water hits her face. “Come on, you’ll get used to it.”

 

“Hey, give us newbies a chance to adjust!” Angie retorts, splashing back. She notices Peggy eyeing them from the dock. Mostly hidden behind Peggy’s sunglasses, Angie can just make out the hint of a smile. It hardens into a glare when Angie and Katherine continue their splash fight.

 

“Come on, you two, let’s finish up. Everyone’s waiting.” Peggy calls out.

 

“Alright, alright, English, don’t get your swimsuit in a twist, we’re coming!”

 

Tension takes hold of Angie’s body as her knees, then thighs, then stomach, then chest, are buried in the water, and she lets out a few more squeaks as she adjusts, but she pushes through and once she’s dunked her head she feels rather refreshed. It’s an easy paddle over to the dock after that. Peggy stands statuesque above them casting a shadow over the swimmers. She pushes her sunglasses back on her head and looks Angie in the eye as she admonishes her.

 

“You must stop calling me that, I’m not the only English person here!”

 

“Too bad, English, you’re stuck with it now.” Angie says with a grin, splashing Peggy, who huffs in response, huffs to hide her smile, Angie is sure of it.

 

Angie keeps a hand on the dock until Peggy gives her the go-ahead. Despite the flush Angie feels knowing Peggy’s eyes are on her, she makes it to the far rope marking off the swimming area, all limbs functioning fine. Charlie is floating there and greets Angie with a thumbs up and a wide grin.

 

“You passed!”

 

A wave of pride washes over Angie. It’s seems ridiculous given the relative distance, but Angie wasn’t sure she was going to survive the swim. She flips around to wave to Peggy, to share the small celebration, but Peggy’s turned her attention to the next swimmer, so Angie lets her arm back down with a small sigh. Before she turns to get out she allows herself a small indulgence, lets her eyes linger on Peggy for a moment longer.

 

The water stirs as Charlie kicks up next to her and Angie turns her head slowly, cool as can be. Charlie’s grin has turned a bit mischievous; her pale eyes examine Angie’s expression, well, _knowingly_. Or at least Angie would describe it as knowing if Charlie had _known_ her for more than a day. When Charlie doesn’t turn away, and doesn’t say a word either, just gives her a small nod, Angie starts to feel hot and slips back on a schoolyard taunt her brothers often used on her.

 

“Hey! Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

 

Charlie lets out a laugh, “Your ‘English’ over there would be saying the same to you if she would just take a look over here.”

 

Anige hits Charlie with one last splash, and kicks back to shore before anyone else notices that she’s been staring.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even with a supplemental mid-afternoon granola bar, Peggy’s stomach is growling by the time she gets to dinner, she and the other lifeguards struggling up the hill to the dining hall at least ten minutes later than everyone else. Their to-do list seemed to grow after the swim test was over, inflating floaties for the kids, hauling down canoes and paddles and life-vests. A significant amount of time was wasted arguing with Charlie over the logistics of a clothesline from which to hang the life-vests.

 

In the end, Charlie had conceded, “Oh, alright, _English_ , they are too crowded, go find another rope.”

 

Peggy had gone a bit red and snapped back, “You’re not to call me that, you hear. It’s insubordination. It’s bad enough that Angie’s got it into her head that she can. Quite daft, that girl.”

 

“Mmhm,” Charlie hummed back. “Daft, maybe, but definitely cute.”

 

Peggy had gone really red at that, but fled before Charlie could see any signs of a blush bloom on her face, managing to stammer out that she had better be getting that rope as she rushed off to the supply room.

 

Now, glancing over at Angie--face alight, deep in the telling of some wild story, in command of the entire table across the aisle--as she slides onto a bench and fills her plate with mashed potatoes, Peggy pushes aside all consideration of whether Angie is cute. Even if she is cute, it’s not like it means anything, people are cute all the time. Peggy focuses instead on her plan to earn Angie’s forgiveness. She had constructed several elaborate schemes in her head before settling on something simple and sweet, and practical.

 

Dinner winds down and desert comes out. Peggy is defending the additional “u” in colour against the taunting protests of two Americans, Steph and Molly, when the chef calls for them to grab their peach cobbler. It’s time. She stalls mid-sentence and leaps up, smacking her knee on the underside of the table.

 

“Oh fu--”

 

“Language!” Steph cuts in. “Only five days left to practice before the campers get here!”

 

“--cking hell!” Peggy finishes, glaring at Steph as she grabs her throbbing knee. “Shit! Only five days left to get it out, I say, and that deserved it, bloody table made for children.”

 

Across the table, Charlie stifles a laugh and says, “Maybe if the _table_ hadn’t been so eager. I told you they always make way too much; it’s not a race, Peg.”

 

“Oh, right,” Peggy replies, fumbling for an excuse, “Well, it’s not that, it’s just that, I, um...I’m just off to the toilet.”

 

“Okay,” Charlie calls after Peggy as she makes her way out the door, limping slightly. “I don’t think the toilet’s going anywhere either!”

 

A few minutes later, Peggy returns from her real destination, the staff lounge, ready. Her heart quickens, just a touch--it’s just her damn knee--as she strides over to Angie’s table.

 

“Hey Peggy, what’s up?” Angie drops a forkful of cobbler back to her plate and scoots over. “Sit down!”

 

The benches at the head and foot of the table are only intended for one person, so the space Angie has left is hardly enough. Peggy stays standing.

 

“No, that’s alright, but I’ve brought you something to make up for this morning, if you’ll accept it,” She holds out her hand. “They’re Jaffa Cakes, I brought them from home, but I’m willing to share if you’re willing to forgive me.”

 

Angie peers up at her quizzically, “Well, thanks Pegs, but I’ve already got dessert.”

 

Leaning down, Peggy replies in a low voice, “These are better, I assure you.”

 

“Peggy! I’m trying to keep myself in good graces with the kitchen staff, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do the same,” Angie glances up at the kitchen window. Nobody is there at present, but shapes move in the back, metal pans clanging against the stainless steel countertops as they begin clean up. She considers the cakes again, then looks up at Peggy with a wink. “Well, this cobbler definitely came from a can, and I guess what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

 

“Mmmm,” Angie’s eyes brighten as she takes a bite, and then another. Watching Angie light up with pleasure fills Peggy with a low burning fire that sparks in the center of her chest and spreads out and up. God, she hopes she’s not blushing again. “Alright, English. You’re forgiven, but only if you keep a steady supply of these comin’ for every morning you get up early. Boy, am I pooped, and Katherine told me it only gets worse. I thought I was coming to teach kids about acting, not break rocks or whatever torture they’ve got planned. You know I had to carry a picnic table today? I thought Jess was joking, but no, apparently they’re dead serious about hard physical labor around here.”

 

“Well,” Peggy begins, with a sympathetic smile, finally settling in on the empty edge of Angie’s bench. It’s a tight fit. She has to press her side against Angie’s so she doesn’t slide off, and she isn’t sure where her arms should go, but it’s surprisingly comfortable, _nice_ , even. “You’ll be happy to know that I slammed my knee rather hard a few minutes ago and I suspect it’ll be best to take a day or two off from those early runs. But I hardly have an endless supply of cakes, so I make no promises about the future. Plus, once the girls get here we’ll all get separated off into different groups and you might be rid of me and my alarm for good.”

 

Angie deflates a little at that, slumping down against the table.

 

“Aww, well, if you’re gonna bring that up already then good riddance.”

 

“Oh,” Peggy raises an eyebrow. “So you’re going to miss the wake up calls, then?”

 

The second Jaffa Cake is still resting on Peggy’s palm. Angie snatches it and takes a huge bite, then begins to speak, pushing her words out around half-chewed crumbs.

 

“We’ll see how I feel at the end of the week, but I like having you around.” Angie slings her arm around Peggy’s shoulder, and there’s that soft warm feeling again, spreading further as Angie pulls her in and flashes a big, playful grin. “As long as you keep feedin’ me!”

 

With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, Peggy counters, “I’ll bet that in five days, if they send me to a different unit, you’ll miss me, truly miss me, early mornings and all.”

 

“I don’t know, English. You really think you’re that special?”

 

“I expect I am. You’ve already got your arm around me, haven’t you?”

 

“This arm?” Angie gives her a light squeeze. “This arm is only here for the sweet stuff. You still gotta convince me you’re more than just desserts.”

 

“You’re on. Five days.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I would ever write a modern au, but this one decided it needed to be written. Huge thanks to [dankscully](www.dankscully.tumblr.com) for endless encouragement. More chapters to come until the summer is done.
> 
> Come talk to me about the six years I spent working at summer camp on tumblr at [automatgalpals](www.automatgalpals.tumblr.com).


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